The Death City Stories
by CluainnFhada
Summary: A collection of Soul Eater drabbles to be enjoyed or disliked by the general public.
1. First Aid

**Hey, anyone who cares? Is there anyone out there who remembers me? Fanfiction's drawn me in again. I hate that about me-my lack of willpower.**

**Yes, I have been working on original stuff but I have missed PUBLISHING my fanfiction. I'm going to write up a load of Soul Eater drabbles, I think, where the characters are completely OOC, but I'll do my best to fix that. Also overhauling my other works and planning to write actual stories again, but first I want to see how much I can do with all the stuff I have up my sleeve.**

**Don't own Soul Eater-never will.**

**First Aid**

"Sit still Soul!" Maka ordered, dabbing the cut-one of many- on his cheek with and bandage soaked in disinfectant.

"I can't help it! It stings!" Soul protested.

"How is it, Soul," Maka starts, turning over one of his hands to look at the cuts lacerating his palm and inspect them for glass splinters utilizing a magnifying glass "That cool guys like never even flinch in a fight, or complain when they get thrown through windows, but when a girl tends to your 'grievous' wounds, suddenly you wince at the gentlest of touches?"

"I'd hardly call these gentle," Figuring he's already injured enough already, Maka ignored that comment, and continued to dab at his hands with the scrap of bandage and Soul-as if to prove her point- winced nearly every time she was even in the vicinity of a cut, armed with the disinfectant. Maka wrapped bandages around his palms and tightened them.

"There, you big baby, all done," she patted his white hair in a patronizing way, grinning. Soul frowned, pissed off, and turned to leave. Maka stopped him. "Soul, I know that I normally do my own minor injuries, but my back hurts and I can't reach-well whatever it is. Could you- just this once?"

"Sure- Jesus, Maka."

"What? What's wrong?" Maka craned her neck, attempted to look at the injury for the first time, only to discover that whatever way her skin pulls when she does that is not comfortable. At all.

"There's a huge shard of glass embedded in your back,"

"So? Just pull it out Soul," She rolled her eyes, "It's not very deep, it doesn't hurt enough for that," Still really hurts though, Soul can tell, how the hell didn't he notice this already. It's fucking massive. Soul wraps his already bandaged, and slightly clumsy because of it, fingers of his right hand around the glass and braces the other hand against the Maka's back.

"Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Maka gripped the edge of the countertop, and gritted her teeth.

There was no count, Soul just yanked the shard out and placed it on the counter.

"That's pretty impressive," Maka admitted, the bloodstained shard was about three inches in length.

"Yeah, whatever, now hurry up and take off your top,"

Maka blushed, a bright ruby colour that endeared her to Soul, but she took off her coat and sweater vest quickly, her fingers yanked at her tie and stumbled over the buttons of her blouse. She stood in the kitchen in her bra and shirt, impatiently waiting for Soul to clean the wound. He used the magnifying glass and tweezers to remove the two smaller pieces of glass that broke in the wound near her blue-and-white polka-dot bra strap. He also pulled out some threads from her blouse. He thoroughly disinfected it, but he was pretty rough about it- he can't ever call her about out about not being gentle again. It wasn't as shallow as Maka made out-in fact any deeper and Soul'd be taking her to the Emergency Room. But he tapes it up and doesn't voice his opinion. Maka's too stubborn to go through all that hassle for a little scratch. He stuck the largest gauze pad he could find over it.

"It'll probably scar-but scars are cool." He reassured her, Maka just shrugged. She winces though, that shrug was costing her.

Maka pulled on her bloodied blouse, but the buttons are harder to do than undo, she blushed furiously at Soul staring at her thoughtfully while she struggled. Should he help? She was also a little hurt and that's it's only thoughtful and not in a sexual way, but extremely relieved at the same time. It was a little confusing.

Soul leaves the room and returns with her pyjamas.

"It'll make things easier, and it's not like either of us are in any fit state to go anywhere tonight."

Maka motioned for Soul to turn away as she pulled on the bottoms, frowning with pain whenever she accidentally overextends herself.

"Soul?"

"Can I look now?"

"Can you do my buttons?" Maka blushed even brighter than before, and Soul swallowed his blush quickly and got to work.

"Do you want to watch a movie?"

They chose a film that they both liked, a comedy about two friends and a video rental store. Despite how awkward they were during the first aid, when Maka was shirtless-they both fall asleep with ease during the film, curled together on the couch.

**Quite short, but I expect I'll get longer drabbles eventually. Please, tell me if you liked it, if you didn't, and most of all why you did or didn't.**


	2. Party Games

**Party Games**

They're playing 'Spin the Bottle' and 'Seven Minutes in Heaven' and Tsubaki and Ox seem to be playing 'Go Fish'. Simultaneously. So far Jacqueline and Black*Star, and Kim and Harvar have been in 'Heaven'-the ensuite attached to the bedroom they've staked out in Kid's house- and Tsubaki's won four dollars and fifty-eight cents. Nobody's quibbling about the actual specifics of the game- just kind of making it up.

Other people have come and gone, thoroughly bamboozled by the games lack of structure-or in Kidd's case, sobbing- but Maka was dragged into the circle by Liz, who went into the bathroom with a weapon from the year above and decided that she'd rather have 'Thirty Minutes in the Symmetrical Study' instead. Unfortunately, Maka can't leave until she's spent at least seven minutes in the bathroom with somebody. She's not looking forward to it, imagining it will consist of awkward time-keeping.

"No way! Cool guys don't play Spin the Bottle!"

"Shut up and sit down, Soul. It'll be fun," Kilik barely glances up. "Hey Tsubaki, deal me into the next round?"

"I sincerely doubt that," Soul mutters, sitting across from Maka. Maka spins the bottle, it lands on Soul and she's thrilled-not for reasons the casual bystander might think, but she knows Soul won't come onto her. They'll probably just play 'Rock, Paper, Scissors,' until the times up and everyone bursts in, trying to catch them in the act of sucking face.

They do play 'Rock, Paper, Scissors' for a while, until they hear a faint, unmistakable click.

"Oh, no."

"They didn't-?"

"BLACK*STAR!" They hear him laughing on the other side of the door.

They did. They locked the bathroom door.

Maka lights the large candle perched on the corner of the bathroom with a match from the book next to it.

"Any suggestions?"

Soul continues to mutter about how uncool this whole situation is. Maka checks the window-it'd be a tight squeeze, but she could fit out, however, they are on the third floor and Soul... Up until to a couple of months ago, Soul might've fit out that window too, but he's filled out and his shoulders are broader than they used to be.

"What do we do now?"

"They won't leave us here forever," Soul says, "Well, Black*Star might, but Tsubaki wouldn't... probably."

"She's on a winning streak-I don't think we can count on her right now." Maka sits down across from Soul. "I don't suppose you have any cards? We are here for the foreseeable future, after all." Soul shakes his head-he doesn't have any cards.

"How about 'Twenty Questions'?"

"You hate 'Twenty Questions'. And you suck at it too,"

"You make an excellent point," Soul rolls his blood-red eyes, "How about you just kick down the door, I've seen you do it a thousand time before,"

"No can do, Soul,"

"Why not?"

"Two reasons- the door opens into the bathroom, so it'll be incredibly difficult to kick down, and besides-"she pulls off one of her shoes. It's a pump with a flexible flat sole and no support. "these are hardly footgear fit for kicking down doors,"

Soul's never kicked a door down in his life and Maka knows it, but she doesn't mention it.

"How about we play 'Truth'?" Maka suggests,"There's not a whole lot of 'Dare' option in a bathroom," Soul could think of a few extreme examples, but he didn't ever want to go there.

"'Truth' it is, cool guys like me never get embarrassed,"

Maka raises a skeptical eyebrow, but again, she keeps her mouth shut.

"Shut up. Anyway Maka, what'll it be-truth or truth?"

"Tough choice, but I think I'll go with truth,"

"Who was your first kiss?" Maka blushes and mutters something. "Sorry, Maka, I didn't _quite _catch that..." Soul grins, embarrassing his meister is fun and easy, even when there's nobody else around. He's almost certain she's never kissed anyone.`

"Black*Star," Maka blushes a deeper shade of scarlet and looks away. Soul, for his part, tries not to look surprised- cool guys like him never get taken by surprise.

"How?"

"Nope, it's my turn," Maka hopes he'll forget by the time her turn rolls around again, but she can't think of a way to change the subject. "Who was yours?"

"Jacqueline," Maka's a little disappointed-that's not dirt.

"Back to you and Black*Star-how?"

"It was before we started at the DWMA," Soul had forgotten, Maka and Black*Star have lived in Death City almost their whole lives. "And we both went to this teenage disco, and I was just reading quietly in the corner- I was pretty young compared to everyone else, they were all fifteen and sixteen- and he, well just kissed me. Out of nowhere." She shrugged, not mentioning that Black*Star had been partaking in a slut race at the time.

"Why do you own a guitar you never play?"

"Chicks dig cool guys with guitars." Soul smirks. "What's your bra size?"

"Soul!" Maka blushes and crosses her arms over her underdeveloped chest. "34A"

"Your turn," Soul smirks, he thinks her blushes are adorable.

"If you're an albino, why are you so tanned?" Soul is stumped, but cool guys like him never, uh, lose their cool.

"Maybe, I'm extra susceptible to UV rays?" He shrugs it off. "Why do girls go to the bathroom in packs?"

"Safety in numbers? Turn the hand-drier on while you pee?" Soul regrets mentioning it, he hadn't realized how much he needed to pee.

"Maka? He asks. "Would you mind, uh, looking out the window for a while?"

"Em, sure?"

"And don't turn around until I tell you to."

"Sure thing." Maka leans out the window and hums loudly to cover the sound of Soul pissing. He zips back up, flushes, and washes his hand quickly.

"You can come in now," Maka turns just as he's toweling his hands dry.

It's cold in the bathroom, so Maka pulls one of the fluffy white towels from the neatly folded pile and wraps it around herself.

"Here, throw me one of those," Soul's towel is smaller, designed for wrapping your hair in or something, but he doesn't complain. Nor, in Maka's opinion, does her have any right to-he's got trousers on.

"It's your turn." Soul reminds her.

"Oh, I can't think of anything," Maka says,"Just tell something I don't know about you."

"Look, I know they're really cool and all, but sometimes I hate my teeth."

"Your teeth?" Soul's mouthful of canines, to be more accurate.

"They scare people, and they are a bitch to brush. Poor dental hygiene is way uncool." Soul grins. "Okay, how about you, something you've never told me before."

"Sometimes I wonder if it bothers you, that I didn't you know, finish Crona and Ragnarok and um, you know..."

"Nah, Maka, I just regret that you din't figure out that all the guy needed was a hug sooner."

"What's your favorite memory?"

"When you beat the kishin. By punching him." Soul's grin broadens at the memory,"In the face."

"Really?" Maka looks surprised "I always figured it must have really annoyed you and the others."

"Why would you think that?" Soul's genuinely puzzled-why would they be annoyed that she saved _all_ their asses and then some.

"Well, you were all fighting flat out, giving it their all, and well, just-all I did was punch the guy in the face and he exploded."

"Black*Star prefers to say that he wore the kishin down and graciously stepped aside to let you have the finishing blow."

"I suspected as much." Maka shivers and pulls the towel tighter around herself.

"What's yours?"

"The day I spent fifteen minutes wandering around the DWMA trying to find the source of that strange and darkly twisted and wonderful piano music and found a creepy sharp-toothed albino partner," Maka paused, "Why were you playing that day anyway? You hardly ever play, but that day, instead of-like everyone else- trying to find a partner that suited you, you chose to play the piano."

"Cool guys let partners come to them, and the room I was waiting in-" Soul smiled. "It was a very nice piano."

"I was surprised that I asked you, surprised you said yes- surprised we matched, I guess."

"Really?" It's Soul's turn to be surprised. "Because I'm a guy?"

"Yeah," Maka admits "What time is it anyway?"

"No clue."

"Do you think they'll ever let us out?"

"Ah, honestly? No."

* * *

"Hey, Black*Star? Tsubaki gently shook his shoulder, having crossed the room carefully, avoiding the various sleepers. "Black*Star!"

"What is it? Go away-even big stars like me don't bounce back from hardcore parties like that straightaway." Black*Star murmurs, still somehow managing to be quite loud, while attempting to roll over.

"Black*Star! Where's Maka and Soul?"

"Don't you remember? How could you forget- the almighty Black*Star locked them in the bathroom together!" All of a sudden, Tsubaki did remember.

"And you left them there all night!"

"The keys in the lock!" Black*Star protests, although how that was supposed to be an excuse, she had no idea. Tsubaki racsd upstairs, worried that her friends might be on the verge of killing each other and/or her and Black*Star.

"Maka! Soul!" Tsubaki frantically struggles with the lock. "I'm so sorry! I completely forgot!" She yanks the door open, Soul and Maka are sitting back to back scowling. Well, not quite back to back-there's maybe an inch to spare. They both have enormous bags under their eyes, and there's a river of solid wax tumbling like a frozen waterfall into the bath.

"Maka, come on, let's go home, I'm about to fall asleep." Soul throws his pride out the window for the sake of a few hours of sleep in the middle of the day. For Maka, there's a moment's hesitation before hers follows.

"Lat's go home. I'm never going to play any of these stupid party games ever again."

**This was kind of a bitch to type. I hate typing. I'm not in the mood to write anything insightful or even remotely interesting in this story's A/N, Constructive crits are always welcome.**


	3. Dyslexia

**I've never been dyslexic, so I can't guarantee this will be good. (I did grill my sister on the subject though)**

Soul's never been good with words. They stumbled across his tongue when he was younger, and he always found it easiest to express himself with his compositions. He could say everything and write anything with music.

Unfortunately, his parents or anyone with anything that resembled a sophisticated or even halfway decent taste in music did not like what he was saying. So eventually, he stopped trying to communicate at all.

His grades had always been low, but they suddenly plummeted when he stopped trying. He couldn't express himself either way - not to the people who were supposed to matter most - so who the fuck gave a crap? It wasn't cool to care so much.

Soul learned to like curses - they were short, and heavy with emotion.

It was a kind teacher with eyes as blue as the pens she likes to use that suggests it first, and at first, he's a little relieved. _It's not his fault. He couldn't help being dyslexic. It's not his fault that his music and words twist. _

He starts to try again for a while anyway, but even when he manages to weigh the letters down, his music is still twisted, neat compositions being pushed out of shape.

The grades fell again. His parents blamed his teachers and the lack of attention he was being paid in the classroom - '_the amount of tuition we pay and you can't help our son!_' - and Soul felt bad that he wasn't brave enough to tell them that it _really was just his fault._

Wes is enlisted to help Soul with his music, but all that happens is Wes outshines him and Soul catches reflected glory, as if Wes is the sun and Soul's the moon.

When Soul leaves for the DWMA, it is the flight of a coward. He drops out the window in the dead of night, leaving a note because even if he doesn't really _like _them, thy are his family and her loves them. It's late, so late that Soul barely managed to get there in time for enrollment the next day. Even then he's exhausted, sleep weighing on his eyes because she couldn't sleep on the train. He had to focus in case he missed his stop.

He doesn't mention his dyslexia on the enrollment form, which doesn't actually ask for much. He forges his mother's signature with the ease of years of practice. It flows from his hand the way his doesn't, because it doesn't even look like letters; just a sort of squiggle that means he doesn't have to tell his parents he failed another test again. His own signature is harder for him than that one. All this school wants from him is to turn into an enormous lethal scythe, as far as he's concerned, so it doesn't matter. All they'll be learning is combat skills, right?

That's something he turns out to be wrong about.

He pairs up with the most bookish person he's ever met, and is surprised to learn that their grade will be a combined effort.

He tries, for a little while anyway, struggling to meet the deadlines for assignments, staying up as late as her an barely accomplishing half the work. Maka notices he spells things wrong, that he finds reading hard, and she pushes herself even harder. At first he thinks that she wants to do well, that she has to pick up the slack he's leaving.

Then he notices that she'll proof read whatever work he does do, answer any questions as long as _he asks._

She won't offer him help, because she knows that would be assuming he needs it. Most of the time he doesn't, even if it's a D he scraping. He'll tell her when he's ready, because she won't jump to conclusions. She observe, and ask Stein for help while making him promise not to tell anyone and spend hours researching how to help him without him realizing she's helping. She keeps up the facade that he's lazy, and she'd driven, because that's what he wants. She takes dozens of extra credit assignments and changes her handwritten notes meticulously from her looping, nightmare cursive to a print that's bottom heavy to prevent the letters drifting.

And she's the first person to like his music, and she can't understand it.

So he tries again.

Because if he couldn't communicate to her with his music, he has to try with words.

**This was someone headcanon on Tumblr and I couldn't resist I had like thirty minutes start to finish don't judge me too harshly please.**


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